Outcast ✧ Phan

Seventeen

A/N - okay, like, i dont usually put author notes at the start of chapters, but this is the LAST chapter, so i feel i should. theres gonna be a epilogue, though, and a little page of me saying goodbye and whatnot. but this is it, the end of the story. enjoy. also maybe a little triggering at some point. be warned.

end
noun
a final part of something, especially a period of time, an activity, or a story.

Its been several days. Possibly a week. Or two, even.

School was starting to materialize as an unfamiliar concept, considering I hadn't went to the building of such since my latest visit with Phil. Granted, I hadn't even left my room, either. Just stayed buried under my duvet, ignoring life and allowing it to ignore me just as well. I don't think my dad even noticed. I'm sure Phil had, but I needn't dare look at my phone in case of him texting me.

Man, had I fucked up.

Why hadn't I just kissed Phil? Boy, did I want to. I wanted to tell Phil how much he meant to me, how much I cared for him. How he changed my life. For the better or for the worse I was not yet clear of, though considering how I was feeling then, in my duvet cave, all empty and shallow, my subconscious was starting to chew at worse.

But, of course, I hadn't kissed Phil. Instead, I ran. I set off a trap I had known from the start was waiting, one that managed to hurt both me and Phil. Maybe it was best, though, running and all.

Now, at least, he could find someone better. Someone normal. Someone other than me.

My stomach curled slightly at the thought of Phil with another person, smiling and laughing and even kissing. Like we could have been if I hadn't of ran off.

But it was over. I had made my choice, and there were no room for u-turns on this highway. Just an endless paving of asphalt. No other cars. Just me, driving along and praying for the end of the road to finally come.

And still, no matter how much I told myself he was gone, told myself that I had cut him off for good, it didn't stop my brain from brewing up what could have happend if I had let myself kiss him. If I hadn't pulled away.

Then, maybe, if I had kissed him, the image of his broken blue eyes wouldn't be seared into my brain like an ironed scar. Maybe we would be together right now. Maybe id be happy.

Then again, though, when have I ever really been happy? From the moment I was born, as if shoved onto the surface of a board game, my fate seemed to have been set, threaded with misery. Perhaps my life was really just a form of entertainment, as though a bunch of people were pulling me around on that game to pass time. Putting me through all of this for amusement.

I frowned, pulling the soft blanket fabric closer over top me. It was hard to breath under the duvet, but I found it more soothing than not. The darkness of the black and grey pattern was like a haven, it clouded my vision from the outside world. If I didn't blink for a few moments, and just started at a certain spot on the inside of the cover, blackness would fizzle into my view. Then, of course, I had to blink, and it was gone again. I wanted to join the black that buzzed on the outskirts of my vision so badly. I wanted to rid myself of the ache that was kneading on my insides.

Someday, maybe, I would. Soon if at all. Maybe, when the pain finally gets too much, I'll be able to let go of everything; my fears, my worries, my ties that still tethered me to this shit hole of a world. I didn't know a lot about the afterlife, and I certainly wasn't religious enough to be ready for the happy heaven that is advertised in most theories, but what I did know was that, as I was seeming to soon discover, I didn't care. I could go to hell, or heaven, or be reincarnated, or just float in emptiness, and I wouldn't even be picky.